The Final Case
by Xeal II
Summary: What if FF7 had been a detective story in the old 50's film-noir style? Vincent Valentine, private investigator, is hired by a secretive Shinra bureaucrat to locate Sephiroth. The story mirrors FF7's general plot, but it's not exactly the same. WiP.
1. Chapter 1

The Final Case

An FF7 Detective Story

Chapter 1

Midgar, the pinnacle of society... and the armpit of the universe. That I called this place home was perhaps a cruel quirk of fate. Rent was obscene and the nightlife filled with the hostile gazes of criminals and lowlifes which paraded across the decrepit streets with universal contempt for their own surroundings. Yet in such a way it was the perfect place for one such as me. The ineffective police force and corrupt Shinra officials created a veritable Promised Land for the private investigator. Business was never slow, and yet it was still barely enough to pay the four-digit rent each month.

So it was until my big case. I can say that in the singular form since nothing else I ever did or am ever likely to do can come close to the gravity of the case. Like all such huge cases, this was one which reached its tentacles into that multi-pronged bureaucratic monstrosity of paper pushers we call the Shinra. The usual case of a cheating husband or industrial espionage was always accompanied by a "cheap." Cheaps were always easy to identify by their street vendor clothing, beaten down attitudes and resigned unhappiness. Such people were uncharacteristically common in Midgar, but then that came as no surprise, times were tough in the old pizza. In this case, however, the man who entered my office was definately not a Cheap. His suit was a custom job, the kind they make on some other continent where the populace is slightly more refined; it was skillfully tailored to fit every muscle of the man. Cheaps may have been low-pay, but they were always safe. Guys like this were always more trouble than they were worth... and they were usually worth quite a bit.

If I had difficulty paying for my studio apartment, I had even more difficulty paying for an office. One might say the small room had more in common with a coffin than an actual place of business. It barely held a desk, a coat stand topped with a long black trenchcoat and a waste basket filed with wadded up papers and the occasional bottle. The building itself stunk with a certain musty odor of decay that no amount of scrubbing or cheap paint could entirely remove from the ancient surfaces. The aged glass on the door held my name, minus a letter which had fallen off some months before, and which I had no occasion to replace. Vincent Valentine, Private Investigator, the letters read. The rusting air conditioner that hung from the window without a hint of life had been topped with a rattling box fan which drew barely cooler air in from the smog-filled reaches of the city.

So it was with mixed emotion that I stared up from my faded and stained wooden desk, strewn with various papers and one small fedora hat, at the well-dressed stranger who had just entered. The stranger, for his part, regarded the decaying surroundings with a degree of amusement, as if to say "so this is how the other half lives." His black suit was expertly tailored, and his left hand held a rather expensive looking briefcase with an even more impressive looking lock. The stilted way in which the man walked labeled him instantly as a bureaucrat, and an obviously successful one. Dealing with such men was always a risky business, especially if they were corrupt. And doing some quick math in my head, I could figure that the man didn't get his expensive suit by signing papers. Bribes were that always unspoken benefit for the Shinra flunkies which inhabited the upper reaches of administrative buildings. All this took only a second of thought, a silence which stretched out a few more moments before the man seated himself on the only other chair in the office.

"Mister Valentine, Private Investigator, correct?" The man said with a slight tinge of authority.

"That's what the sign says." I responded briskly.

"A simple answer in the affirmative will suit my purposes." The man quipped sharply. If I needed any more proof that this was a Shinra cronie, I just recieved it.

"Yes, that's me. Do you need to scan my ID? Did I forget to pay a parking ticket? Those things always slip my mind you know..." I added with a touch of dry humor. I was in no mood to be badgered by a bureaucrat.

"Humor won't get you anywhere with me mister Valentine. I have a case for you, if you feel your skills are up to the challenge of course." The bureaucrat responded.

"Business is business. Since you already know my name, perhaps I could have the courtesy of yours?" This comment brought just a tiny flicker of fear in the man's eyes. Bad idea, I thought, of course he doesn't want to be identified. Well at least I knew the man was definately trouble.

"You may call me mister Brown. You understand, of course, that in a line of work such as you and I partake in, there is a degree of confidentiality." He replied, the flicker of fear well hidden again.

"Very well, mister Brown. What's the trouble?" My voice tinged on sarcasm as I spoke his 'name.'

"An associate of mine is missing, I require his whereabouts." The Shinra cronie responded flatly. Of course I knew whoever this guy was looking for, he probably wasn't an associate. Shinra rarely went to such trouble to locate missing employees. Yes, you require his whereabouts all right... so you can free him from his mortal coil. I suppose if I were wiser, I would have booted the man out of my office immediately and moved my practice to a different continent.

"I would imagine a man of your obvious means would have other resources to call upon?" I replied, burying any hint of disdain that would have otherwise crept into my voice. For his part, the man understood what I was really asking. Any Shinra cronie who took bribes as often as he probably did understood the subtle request for payment. It was a polite reminder that I knew why he was here, why anyone would come to me. No one like him hired a Private Investigator out of choice, it was always a last resort when your business was too shady to stand up to the light of day. The metal briefcase slid across my desk, its lock opened and the contents displayed for my scrutiny. For once, genuine fear gripped my mind as I estimated the sum of Gil displayed before me. There was more money in that case than I had made in the last several years of "honest" work.

"There will be more upon completion of your task. That is mere pittance compared to the reward you will recieve. Let us say ten times that sum when you find... Sephiroth." The name hung in the air like a bad stench. Of course I knew of Sephiroth. Only an incompetent fool living under a rock for the last twenty years wouldn't recognize the name. But I had a much more personal grudge against the man and his vile "creator," and it was obvious that this man knew it. At least I knew why he had come to me and not some other old fool buried deep in the old pizza. The man shifted uncomfortably for a moment, and I knew I had no choice but to take the case. The moment Sephiroth's name had been dropped, I had been bound to the job. Take the money... or take a bullet; those were my only real options at this juncture. Certainly the cronie wouldn't simply allow me to walk away from the case knowing what it was he wanted. Or was it even him? Sephiroth was a subject Shinra would much rather the world forgot about, and if he still lived, they would likely do anything to keep it under wraps. I had assumed he was dead, the incident at Nibelheim five years before had been confirmed by multiple sources... but the pile of money sitting on my desk seemed to indicate otherwise.

"What information can you give me?" I asked, hoping my tone of voice betrayed none of the anxiety which had gripped me.

"Everything I can tell you is in the bottom of that case. Good day, mister Valentine." The man turned and headed for the door, glancing back for a moment. "I expect that we shall not meet again, but if you must reach me, come to the restaurant in Wall Market and ask for Cait Sith. You have one month, and I will be watching." The door closed behind him with an echo of finality as my eyes turned back to the impressive wad of cash. I reached into the briefcase and felt a thin stack of folded papers underneath the pile of Gil. As I began to read, all the blood drained from my face and terror crept into the darkest reaches of my mind. All I could think... was that I should have asked for a lot more money.


	2. Chapter 2

The Final Case

An FF7 Detective Story

Chapter 2

Where to begin? That's always the question which infuriates a detective. It's relatively easy to follow a set of clues to an obvious conclusion, but it's quite another matter to find a trail five years cold in a city as hopeless and ruined as Midgar. All around me people trudged about in shared misery, rarely looking up or even acknowledging my presence as I slid through crowds silently, my hands buried in my trench coat and my face hidden by the fedora. It never rained under the plates, but when it rained outside the city a sort of wet mist would pass through the air, mixing with the foul stench of the city and sticking to your skin like grease. Water leaked through the dilpatidated plates in some places, pouring forth in small waterfalls of liquid and garbage which filtered it's way from the more fortunate living above. Of all the sectors of Midgar, Seven was probably the worst. Certainly other sectors had their own unique charms of misfortune, but nothing seemed to compare to the overall hopelessness of Sector Seven. This was where the real hard-luck cases lived. The only thing these people had in common with each other was misery and pain, their own private hells amidst the ruinous cityscape. As such, it could be said that I knew this place well, a sizable fraction of my clientele had come from the area and if I could call upon any favors, this would be the place to do it. I tilted my hat up, staring at the familiar flickering neon-lit sign above me, wondering what I would find inside tonight.

Seventh Heaven was anything but. None of the clientele this place served could be rightly described as heavenly in any way. The usual unsavory characters had seated themselves at the dilapidated bar and scattered tables built from scraps, their shifting glances only adding to the general feeling of unwelcome that pervaded the atmosphere here. Had I been a newcomer, it's likely I would have been run out of the place within a matter of minutes, penniless and abused. As it stood I took the hostile gazes with a certain degree of confidence. As hopeless and angry as these people were, I fit in relatively well and the bulge in my trench coat warned of a more than adequate capacity for self-defense. I seated myself on a torn and fading stool at the end of the bar and motioned to the well endowed figure working furiously behind the counter.

"Vincent. It's been a long time. What'll it be?" Tifa asked, her curvy, barely modest figure drawing admiring glances from around the decaying bar as she leaned on the countertop.

"Scotch. On the rocks." I responded simply, and a worried look crossed the bartender's features for a moment. She drew herself up, selecting a dusty bottle and pouring the noxious liquid into the small glass. Her long hair swayed behind her, and I couldn't help a small smile as I thought about how many men had been at the receiving end of her fist for looking a bit too long. She set the glass down in front of me, and I took a long gulp, the warm liquid bringing me a slight tinge of glorious warmth. I had forgotten how easy it was to lose myself here, to let the booze take me away from the haunting memories of Lucrecia and my dark past. Tifa's fist broke my reverie as it slammed onto the countertop, nearly spilling the glass.

"You going to tell me what this is about? You haven't ordered a Scotch since... well..." Tifa hesistated a moment, as if suddenly realizing she was handling something extremely fragile.

"Yeah. I'm on a pretty big case, and I need some information. Figured I'd call in the marker." I responded quietly, my voice muffled amidst the general chatter surrounding me.

"It must be pretty bad if you're down here looking for favors." Tifa responded, as she wiped down a glass. I took another long pull from the Scotch, surprised at how much I missed the warmth and flavor.

"You talked about a Cloud Strife awhile back, if I remember right. What do you know of him?" I asked, my voice nearly a whisper.

"That's a name I haven't heard in awhile," she began, her eyes distant, "I knew him when I was younger, at Nibelheim. He was going off to join SOLDIER. I haven't heard from him since." Tifa replied, her voice tinged with just a hint of sadness.

"I assume he left before... the incident." I added, finishing the last of my Scotch. Tifa merely nodded in reply, her eyes coming to rest on the counter, head held low. I reached inside my coat and cautiously fished about for a small photograph, careful to avoid prying eyes. Fortunately Tifa's attire held most of the attention in the bar, at least among those still sober enough to care. Tifa leaned in, catching sight of the picture, and gasped softly, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Is that him?" I continued as she nodded softly, setting down the glass she had been drying to get a closer look. Not wanting to draw any more attention than absolutely necessary, I motioned to my empty glass and placed the picture back into my coat. Catching my meaning, Tifa poured another shot of Scotch, warm amber liquid cascading around the half-melted ice cubes.

"Is there someplace more private we can talk?" I whispered, my hand latching onto the glass. This time the drink didn't linger any longer than it had to. A few moments later I set the empty glass back down on the counter, a pleasant feeling of warmth overtaking me.

"Yeah, meet me out back in a few minutes." Tifa responded as I counted off a few wadded-up bills and dropped them onto the worn wooden surface. She sauntered off to another customer, her hips swaying with temptation as she walked. I idly wondered how much in the way of tips that figure must bring in. As if to punctuate my thoughts, a drunken customer's hand lightly brushed against her bare leg with just a fleeting touch of skin. I turned about and headed out of the decrepit bar as I heard the satisfying crack of fist against forehead, followed by something heavy impacting against the floor. I stifled the urge to laugh as I made my way back out into the damp, greasy cityscape beyond.

Shadows moved somewhere in my peripheral vision, my eyes catching only the faint whisper of motion in the flickering lights. I knew I was being followed, but by whom? If Shinra had sent men to trail me, so be it; they had to know I would come to Sector Seven first anyway. Of course the possibility existed that I was being followed by someone else, but even in that case it would probably do well to lead them on for awhile before giving them the slip. I reached for my revolver anyway as I worked my way through the alley beside Seventh Heaven. My nose twitched at the horrendous stench wafting through the dark alleyway, cluttered with decaying garbage and industrial wreckage. Somewhere behind the bar a light flicked on and I caught a brief glimpse of a dark figure aiming a weapon me. I had no time to think; an intense wave of adrenaline surged through me as I pulled the trigger instinctively, leaning back with practiced ease as the trench coat fluttered around me. The revolver barked twice in reply as bullets pierced soft flesh and a body came twisting through the refuse-strewn alley. I could see Tifa running from the back of the bar, ready for a fight, concern worming it's way across her features.

"What happened?" She asked, seeing the body surrounded by a growing pool of crimson. A small pistol lay beside the dead man.

"I'm not sure. But I'm glad you came outside when you did. That light probably saved my life." I answered, the adrenaline beginning to fade away. In a way it was comforting, at least I knew for certain this case was serious trouble. Somehow knowing I was doomed made it slightly easier to accept.

"Come, lets get you upstairs, we can talk safely there." Tifa continued, her eyes scanning about for any sign of danger as she whisked me through the back door.


	3. Chapter 3

The Final Case

An FF7 Detective Story

Chapter 3

Usually, one might say "this place has seen better days" when presented with a place as rundown and filled with despair as Tifa's apartment. But I doubted it, good times had probably never visited Seventh Heaven, and I knew they had been horribly lacking from Tifa's tortured life. The smell of musty decay was everywhere, infesting the place like a cancer, saturating you with it's stench. Wallpaper dangled from the walls in half-peeled strips, the stained floral pattern seeming as if it had simply wilted away. The stairs groaned as if the planks were inhabited by some tortured soul trying desperately to escape the hideous confines of the place. Muffled sounds echoed from the bar beyond, ghostly whispers that seemed to hover just on the edge of understanding, and it only added to the chilling atmosphere. How anyone could get any sleep in such a place was beyond my understanding.

As I reached the top of the creaking stairs, Tifa turned to me, her ample bosom bouncing lightly in its ill-fitting enclosure. Ensuring that I did not stare too long, lest I share in the fate of many of the bar's denizens, I met her gaze and was surprised to find an intense sadness there. Tifa was always a hard case to crack, she was a range of obviously conflicting emotions and desires, guarded by a toughness that scared away anyone with any kind of intelligence whatsoever. I knew to keep my distance, as this femme fatale had more than her share of problems I didn't want to deal with. But it was still comforting to know that somewhere underneath her toughness and ravishing figure, there was still a person that had some feeling left in her. It was that person I would have to reach tonight, if I were to get anywhere in my investigation.

"Show me the picture again." She demanded, the sadness vanishing from her features as her mental defenses came back to her. For my part, I merely nodded and handed her the photograph of the spiky-haired man. "Yeah... that's Cloud. I guess he made it into SOLDIER then... I wonder if he still remembers me." She continued, wistfully. There was obviously something more to the story between them, but I only pried when I was paid to pry. I knew far too much of others' dirty laundry already, and had little desire to know more.

"I'm not sure about the SOLDIER part. He's got Mako eyes, but I have been through most of the SOLDIER records and haven't found his name referenced anywhere." I responded as I reached into my coat and pulled out a second photograph, this time with a dead man's haunting visage staring up at a sky he would never see again. "Do you know this man?" I asked.

"I don't know him, but I recognize that face. I'll never forget that face... He was the SOLDIER with Sephiroth during the... incident. Why are you here? Why are you asking me this?" Tifa began to choke up, the painful memories bringing back an intense pain that seemed to almost overwhelm her.

I had been wrestling with the necessity of telling her the truth ever since leaving my office. A Private Investigator doesn't stay in business long by trusting people, so it's never an easy decision to spill your guts out. Yet something told me that if anyone could be honest and loyal, it was Tifa. Sure, she would make a mangled disaster out of your face if you crossed her, but if you remained a loyal friend to her.. she would defend you with her life. At peace with my decision, I spoke the words that brought a look of utter horror to her hardened features.

"I have been hired to track down Sephiroth." I said simply, my voice emotionless and flat.

"Wha...wha...what? He's dead. He has to be dead!" Tifa's face suddenly filled with rage and pain, her features covered in scarlet.

"Shinra doesn't seem to think so. And for once, I take them at their word." I risked a comforting touch on her hand, squeezing it lightly with a degree of sympathy. Some might accuse me of being heartless or cold, but it was all part of being a true professional. I could afford a slight degree of empathy here, as Tifa wrestled with her painful past. She held onto my hand like a lifeline, squeezing it tightly with intense feeling.

"What does that have to do with Cloud?" She asked, wiping away her tears and pulling her hand away from mine suddenly, her defenses restored again.

"I'm not sure, but these photographs were included with a packet of information handed to me by my employer. It might be that Cloud knows where Sephiroth is. At any rate, it's a starting place. According to the information I have, Cloud made it to Midgar, though his friend here did not survive." I continued, pointing to the second photograph. "I need to find him, and I think perhaps you do as well." I added, my voice nearly a whisper.

"I will help you find him." She began, her voice strong and confident again. She smiled seductively, and in that moment I understood the full measure of just how dangerous this woman was.

"Do you still keep in touch with Barret?" I asked cautiously. "I have something in mind that could use his unique... touch."

"Yeah, he still comes in often enough, mostly to drop off Marlene. He'll probably be in later tonight. But he's usually got the rest of the Avalanche gang with him. Most of them don't like you." She replied flatly. I didn't need her to tell me that, Avalanche and I had many dealings in the past, most of them bad. The hot-tempered street gang turned self-declared eco-terrorists thought they knew everything, and that just because they could fill the sector with scandalous graffiti and blow up a few unmanned relay stations, they were to be universally feared. With Sephiroth on the loose, it's doubtful that Shinra paid them any more attention than they paid to the piles of rotting garbage that fermented all over the ruinous city. None of that mattered though, raw Gil had a language all of it's own, a tongue far more persuasive than mere words.

"What are you going to do about our friend outside?" Tifa asked, breaking the silence finally.

"Even the rats need to eat sometime." I replied, a twisted smile on my face as I headed down the ghostly, creaking stairs. Of course there was the minor matter of who or what the assassin worked for, but I doubted I would discover much from the corpse; the man had obviously been a paid professional. With all the lights in the apartment switched off, I silently slipped out into the darkness, careful to avoid disturbing any of the refuse littering the alley. I found the corpse where my revolver had left it, face down in the mud and grime of the damp alleyway as if he were slowly melding with the festering garbage and wreckage which surrounded him. Faint tapping sounds hovered just on the edge of my awareness, and I could imagine the massive rats of Midgar's underworld licking their lips with anticipation, their hungry, beady eyes staring greedily at the blood-drenched remains. Something attracted my eye in the darkness, a faint glow that seemed to emanate from the corpse's back pocket. I reached inside and felt a smooth glass-like surface, revealing a tiny green sphere that seemed to pulse with some kind of shimmering energy. I knew what it was, of course, but it had been years since I had actually seen materia, much less held one in my hand. Whoever the assassin worked for was obviously not lacking for funding, if they could afford to send out assassins equipped with the rare magic-bearing orbs. With that disturbing thought echoing in my mind, I vanished back into Tifa's decrepit home in the back of Seventh Heaven, the orb safely tucked away within my coat. Behind me the rats began to feed, fighting amongst each other for the choicest morsels of tender flesh.


	4. Chapter 4

The Final Case

An FF7 Detective Story

Chapter 4

_From Cloud's Perspective_

Luck. Who knew what luck really was... perhaps it was the favor of some God with a twisted sense of humor, or maybe it was simply cosmic coincidence, as if the very fabric of the universe favored some over others. Sometimes I wondered exactly what I had done to the rest of the world to deserve the fate which had bound itself to me. Other times I would quiet my mind, hovering on the edge of self-pity, looking into that emotional abyss which leads to insanity. All roads lead to Midgar, it is here that fate ends, it is here that my life draws to a close. Perhaps when I was younger I might have feared death, that eternal blackness, a final terminus on my pathetic journey. Now, I simply embraced it, I held on to the darkness growing within me, the hatred which fermented in my heart.

If only I could tell the world what these eyes have seen. I would tell them of Zack's bravery, his immense strength and fearless mind, as he turned to face the limitless multitudes. Perhaps I would tell them of the hideous experiments that had been performed on my body and mind, which had left me a confused wreck wandering the underworld of Midgar alone and hopeless. Maybe I would tell them of the endless running battles, Shinra's constant pursuit of me through the dismal cityscape, and the wounds which had ravaged my body.

Somehow I still found the strength buried deep within me to climb further, pulling myself up the support cables which dangled from the plate above. With Shinra's forces strewn all over Midgar's slums in the endless quest to find me, I knew the only freedom was far above. If I could somehow reach the surface, I could deliver Zack's revenge. I did not know how I would break in, or what I would do, or even if my wounds would allow me to survive... but it did not matter. Zack had died protecting me, and I could not let his death go unanswered. I now had to fight for both of us, I now had to live two lives to honor him, and live up to my failures. Luck had a different plan in store for me, however. My hand, slick with warm blood, slipped from the cable and I began to slide further down. Desperately I grasped at the air and tried to hold myself up, but it was for nought. Metal groaned in protest and the cable dislodged itself from the plate above, sending me tumbling through the air to my certain death. My last thought was a curse, intense, pure hatred directed at the force which had brought me to this end. May Shinra be erased from the Earth, may all of their works be forgotten and buried for all eternity, may all of their leaders die slowly, in agonizing pain, crying out for release from their own tortured hell, may they burn forever. The hate flowed through me as my struggle ceased and I fell silently through the air. Darkness.

-----------------------------

It's time to wake up.

Huh?

Yes. You still live.

I don't understand...

You have a new purpose.

Confusion...

Blackness surrounded me, and I wondered if this was what death felt like, an endless nothingness in which I would be forever conscious. I could imagine no greater hell than an eternity of sensory deprivation. Pain. It was the first sensation in the darkness, and it enveloped me completely. Agony seethed through my body, coming from everywhere, it was if pain itself coursed through my veins. Sound. An angel's soft tones echoed in my mind. Her words passed through me without a hint of understanding, but the voice was comforting, soothing and lovely beyond any possible description. If my eternity were to be spent in blackness, it would all be worth it to hear that voice.

My eyes fluttered open and I was nearly blinded by the light which seemed to envelope me, embracing me with it's loving warmth. A woman was there, her long brown hair shimmering in the light, her emerald eyes alive with concern and worry. Those eyes... It was as if I were looking into a calm forest, filled with boundless life. I did not know her, but in that moment I wished nothing more than the chance to do so. It was then that I noticed the flowers around me, and I wondered again if I had died... flowers did not grow in Midgar, everyone knew that. Their scent found its way into my nostrils, their wondrous aroma filling my heart with... something I couldn't understand. I forced myself to stand and look up, seeing the gaping hole in the roof of this glorious church. Obviously this place had saved my life, as worthless as it might be.

"Are you okay?" The voice was so beautiful, so wondrous. I took in the sight of her, the lovely pink dress, the beautifully braided hair and that intoxicating smile. I stopped myself.. I did not know this woman, and my mind was a wreck, the remnants of whatever Shinra had done to me. I could not trust my own emotions.

"Where?" I asked simply.

"This is a church in the Sector 5 slums. You fell from above. You really gave me a scare." She replied sweetly. For a moment I thought I saw her eyes looking over me, as if her thoughts were little different than mine. Imagination. Who would want to look at.. me. Certainly no one I ever encountered was remotely interested in me. Why was I thinking this? Maybe I should just talk to her... How?

"..I came crashing down?" The answer was obvious, but it had to be asked anyway.

"The roof and the flower bed must have broken your fall. You're lucky." She smiled sweetly, and for the first time I noticed that my wounds had been cleansed. She had cared for me, and quite possibly saved my life.

"This flower bed... is it yours?" The answer to that question was obvious too. Why was I standing here talking to her? I should have thanked her and left as quickly as my legs could carry me. I had no idea how long I had been here. She merely nodded in reply, and for a moment I felt extremely guilty. Those flowers had to be exceptionally rare here...

"Sorry about that." I responded sheepishly.

"That's all right. The flowers here are quite resilient because this is a sacred place. They say grass and flowers won't grow in Midgar. But for some reason, they have no trouble blooming here. I love it here." She replied as she began to tend them. I already loved it here too, though not necessarily because of the flowers. What? The errant thought struck me as particularly bizarre. I shook my head to clear my confused mind. I had to get moving...

"Thanks for.. helping me." It was the only thing that I could think of to say.

"Don't mention it! Say... we don't know each other's names, do we? I'm Aerith, the flower girl. Nice to meet you!" She responded, her cheery voice confusing me. I had no idea how she could be so cheery after having a stranger fall through her roof and destroy her flower bed. Normally such blatant happiness and cheeriness would have annoyed me to no end, but somehow she was different... I actually found myself wanting to smile at her in return. But I didn't, I couldn't. Nervousness overtook me and I fought the impulse to hide my face from the amazing woman who had saved me.

"The name's Cloud. I do a bit of everything." I responded seriously. I had to maintain control over myself.

"Oh, a jack of all trades?" She giggled. Why did she find this amusing?

"I do whatever's needed." I replied simply, but she giggled even more. I felt the annoying crack of a smile starting to work it's way onto my face, and I suppressed it with some difficulty.

"What's so funny, why are you laughing?" I asked. I had intended for the reply to sound angry and annoyed, but instead a hint of amusement crept into my voice. She smiled at me again, her beautiful eyes staring into my soul... I could get lost in there. What? I had just met this woman. But I couldn't resist... I was intensely drawn to her...

Crash. The door to the old church flew open, revealing four dark figures, covered in black. Their long, unbuttoned trench coats draped nearly to the floor, their downcast heads covered by fedoras that hid their faces and cast menacing shadows which played across their bodies as they moved soundlessly. Dark hair flowed from beneath the hat worn by the leader, and he looked up, his eyes glaring with intensity as he slid a polished revolver from his dark, obsidian coat and gripped it with quiet confidence. I knew who they were of course... who in Midgar didn't know of the Turks, the dirty shadow-assassins and intelligence agents of Shinra's highest echelons. You would find them around every foul, refuse-strewn alley corner, you wouldn't know they were following you until the revolver pressed against the back of your skull. Apparently I had lingered far too long in the old church... I should have escaped when the opportunity presented itself. Yet their gazes passed right over me, their eyes fixating on the lovely flower girl behind me. It was as if they didn't even know who I was... or maybe they just didn't care.

"Cloud... I don't suppose you've ever been a bodyguard..." The lovely voice began behind me. But she didn't need to ask me, my decision to help her had been the made the moment I opened my eyes and saw her leaning over me...


	5. Chapter 5

The Final Case

An FF7 Detective Story

Chapter 5

_From Cloud's Perspective_

I had purpose again, a reason for existing beyond the suicidal need for vengeance. If someone had asked me why I risked my life for a woman I had only just met, I doubt I could have given any kind of coherent answer. But that didn't matter, she was in front of me now, a long braid of beautiful brown hair waving gently behind her, her long pink dress rippling in the breeze flowing across the rooftops. Steam curled up from below, obscuring us from the pursuing Turks, wafting upwards in the darkness, a stream of white moisture laden with the usual noxious mixture of chemicals which were ever-present in the dilapidated city. Somewhere behind me a gunshot rang out, ricocheting dangerously close by, and I felt the horrible knot in my stomach at the realization of how close the bullet had come to hitting her. I drew my own weapon, a ridiculously large Tommy gun, and spun around rapidly, spraying the rooftop with a rain of metal.

"We have to hurry." I spoke softly to the wondrous woman ahead of me. She turned around and I saw those eyes, those beautiful orbs, the color of the purest jade, staring back at me with gratitude. I had to snap out of it quickly. I leaped over a small space between the ruinous buildings, and she followed, nearly falling backwards. I grabbed her hand, pulling her to safety as I saw the Turk leader emerge from the steam vent behind us. His hat had fallen off sometime in the vigorous pursuit, and I could see the outline of his features. His black eyes stared forward, piercing the darkness, lit only by the street lights far below. Long black hair flowed behind him, billowing in the breeze as the revolver aimed upward. I pushed Aerith's form behind roof vent and aimed the tommy gun forward, firing madly as the blasts illuminated my face. The Turk leader leaped behind a slab of bricks and returned fire, a bullet grazing over my shoulder, leaving a thin trail of red in its wake. Pieces of brick and mortar disintegrated as the tommy gun tore them apart, and then clicked on empty. The other Turks caught up then, the three of them spreading out, trench coats flowing behind them as they skidded to a halt. Bullets ricocheted all around me as I slid behind the roof vent and punched the plate cover inward with the butt of the gun. I carefully helped Aerith inside, trying hard not to look into those mesmerizing eyes, then I threw myself in head first, crashing into hard, unforgiving wood floors below.

"You're hurt." Aerith was over me again; she tore a thin strip of fabric loose from her dress and gently wiped the blood from my shoulder. Pain from my fall overwhelmed me for a moment, then I pushed it aside and struggled to my feet. She smiled at me for a moment, and I thought my heart would melt. Why did she affect me so? Was I crazy, had Shinra's experiments on my tortured mind driven me to insanity? This was so stupid, running off and risking my life for some woman I didn't know. I didn't even know why the Turks were after her; maybe she was a murderess in disguise, underneath all that gorgeous innocence. Yet somehow I knew.. that she wasn't anything evil, and whatever reason the Turks were chasing her, it wasn't her fault. How I knew this I cannot explain.

I gripped her hand tightly in thanks and nodded down the hallway. As we broke out into a sprint through the condemned building, something dropped to the floor behind us with an intense thud. I had no occasion to look behind me even as a bullet pinged nearby, and kept running, kicking a door open violently and pushing Aerith through as I turned about and slammed another magazine into the tommy gun. The weapon kicked back violently in my hands, and I struggled to keep it steady. A rain of bullets flew down the hall, and I heard the sickening sound of metal flying through soft flesh. The lead Turk dropped to one knee and rolled into another room, a thin trail of blood smeared on the floor. I wasn't sure how badly I had wounded the assassin, but it was probably a useless gesture. The other three were fast on the leader's heels. A woman with long, cascading blonde hair underneath the dark hat which obscured her features, skidded to a halt and drew her gun, its polished steel glinting in the darkness. Before she could pull the trigger, I disappeared into the cold darkness outside. Shots rang out behind me anyway, pinging off of some pile of wreckage as the woman screamed a curse I couldn't quite make out.

With the Turks occupied with their wounded leader, we finally made good on our escape. I held no false illusions, however. The Turks would be back, and they would not stop pursuing us until we were so much meat on a cold slab, buried deep within a morgue somewhere in the rotting cityscape. Or at least me, anyway, who knew if they wanted Aerith alive or dead. I had to find help, and I had to save this beauty from whatever dark plan Shinra held for her. After all, she probably saved my life, and if anything, I owed her enough to return the favor. Or at least that's what I told myself; deep down within the depths of my tormented soul, I felt the very first pangs of feeling. It wasn't much, but it was enough for me to want more...

After several hours on the run, I finally felt safe, at least for the moment. Aerith perched herself atop the remnants of a children's playground, catching her breath in tortured gasps. I guess I hadn't realized just how fast I had been pushing her along. It was so easy for one accustomed to life on the run, I had almost forgotten how hard it would be for someone plucked out of their normal life and plunged into a forced escape from a bunch of cold-hearted assassins. Despite her gasps, I could see a smile begin to form on her hauntingly beautiful face.

"It's been a long time.. I'm surprised its still here." She began wistfully, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

"What.. this playground?" I responded, climbing up next to her. I wanted to slide closer, I wanted to feel her warmth.. What? I shook my head for a moment, clearing my thoughts. It didn't matter what I wanted, there was no possibility any woman could find me attractive or interesting. I never had Zack's ability with the smooth words, flirting glances or even just talking. Sure, I could face down a monster or duel with some dark Turk leader, but I was too much of a coward to even talk to a woman.

"Yeah... I used to play her when I was younger. I thought they would have torn it down by now." Her voice was soft and sweet, full of gratitude. "Thanks, Cloud. It was so kind of you to help me back there."

"It'll cost you." I didn't want to speak those words, I felt like I would give her anything she asked for. But I knew better than to be that way, it was a cold world out there, and I never believed in that love at first sight business anyway. My mind was messed up, and I had simply latched on to someone out of desperation, nothing more. Besides, I needed to know why they were chasing her, that was more important right now. But those thoughts felt empty...

"Oh," She started to giggle. "Let's see, how about I go out on a date with you?" She asked, smiling sweetly. For a moment I was taken aback that she would even suggest that. Then I realized I was more taken aback by the fact that I wanted to accept. Was she just throwing herself at me to get out of paying some cold, hard Gil? No. I didn't really believe that, but neither could I believe how sweet and... refreshingly simple she was. She just seemed to tell you whatever she felt or wanted without mincing words or hiding it under layers of lies and false personas as everyone else, including me, seemed to do. I could sense that behind that simplistic sweetness and optimism was an intense wisdom beyond her years. She had almost been captured or killed by the Turks, the most deadly agents Shinra could produce, and she was asking me out on a date? I couldn't speak to her, I couldn't open my mouth, I couldn't even look at her.. I turned away blushing profusely, my cheeks probably stained scarlet. I could only nod yes in reply.

"You're so sweet..." She began, drawing closer to me, almost touching.. her body leaned into mine, and I felt myself wanting to hold her, my arm twitching as I wrestled with my own thoughts. I didn't know what to do, whether I should wrap my arms around her, or if I would mess it up somehow... After several long moments with her head leaning lightly against my shoulder, I started to reach around her, scared and almost shaking with a fear greater than any terror I had ever faced...

Tifa. Suddenly my courage was shattered as I saw Tifa out of the corner of my eye. It had been many years since I had seen her, during destruction of Nibelheim, but I could never forget her face. The cart she on was drawn by two sickly chocobos of relatively poor stock. That was nothing new, there was no such thing as a healthy animal in this city. Yet I couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong about the situation.

"Aerith... I saw... a friend on that thing." I pointed to the cart that was drawing away out of sight.

"Oh? That girl?" She responded, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Was that disappointment I heard?

"Yeah." I replied simply.

"A... girlfriend?" Aerith asked sweetly. Yet I could tell that the answer was important to her. Why? And who would think I, of all people, would even have a girlfriend?

"No, she's a friend from... a long time ago." I answered.

"Hmmm. Well this isn't good. That's one of Don Corneo's wagons." Aerith answered, her voice suddenly alive with worry.

"Who's that?" I heard the note of worry in her voice...

"Well he takes in women and..." She left the rest unsaid, but I got the meaning. "We should help her."

I was surprised that she made the offer so quickly, and I felt my admiration for her growing with every passing moment.

"Yeah, definitely." I answered quickly.

"Let's go, Cloud."


	6. Chapter 6

The Final Case

An FF7 Detective Story

Chapter 6

_From Vincent's Perspective_

Water trickled down the sides of the worn down buildings, covered in grime and filth, illuminated only by the bright neon lights which all seemed to vie for my immediate attention. This was Wall Market, where the cesspool of human filth congregated to satisfy their most primitive and lewd desires. A number of prostitutes passed me by, their almost non-existent clothing hiding nothing as they sauntered by, hips swaying provocatively as they walked. The stench of booze and cheap food hovered in the air, filling my nostrils with the putrid scent of sin. Ahead of me lay what passed for a mansion in these parts, a massive home built from scraps and remnants of grander structures which had long since decayed into ruin. As vile a place as Wall Market was, I was no stranger here. A sizable portion of my business dealt with the sins of the flesh which frequently took place here; it was an unavoidable occupational hazard for the private investigator.

It wouldn't be long now, I thought as I leaned against a broken column, my fedora tilted downward to avoid casual glances from passers-by. Tifa passed by in the chocobo cart, looking every bit the forlorn and broken woman she had every right to be. Fortunately for my carefully laid plans, however, the entire scene was just a very impressive act. Don Corneo was a very powerful man, but like all power-hungry men, he had a weakness for the flesh... and who couldn't resist Tifa's ravishing figure? The cart came to a halt and several dark figures in exceptionally expensive suits escorted Tifa into the massive structure. I just hoped all this trouble would be worth the information I could extract from the sex-obsessed mobster. The Don and I had a long history, most of it bad, and he still had a hit out on me, though his goons had never come to collect. No one in his syndicate really wanted to try taking down an ex-Turk, and I half-believed that the hit had just been a not-so-subtle threat to stay away from his clientele.

After another long hour, Barret and his Avalanche goons stepped out from the nearby gym, populated by some of the most bizarre people I ever had the displeasure of meeting. The dark-skinned man had more in common with a tank than an actual human being; massive, sinewy muscles bulged from beneath his obsidian leather jacket. Everything about the man simply screamed hired muscle; certainly everyone in the immediate vicinity scampered off to escape the intimidating man's presence. His prosthetic right arm held a purpose-built machine gun, specially crafted for the gang-leader's use. A row of bullets stretched around his mammoth frame to a pack strapped on his back. Certainly this was not a subtle man, but then subtlety was not exactly what I had in mind. I looked his three companions down for a moment, satisfying myself that they would do the job.

"Remember, fifteen-thousand Gil when it's done, here's the five-thousand for showing up." I tossed the dark-skinned man an impressive wad of fresh bills. "You know the drill. Stay out front and keep his men pinned down. I only need about ten minutes, so don't get careless." I continued.

"I got it you &# get yer ass in there and do what you gotta do." Barret began, his deep voice threatening. "You better get Tifa outta there. If she gets hurt, it's yer ass."

"No need to worry about Tifa, she can take care of herself... but I'm not leaving her behind." I answered simply. As impressively built and armed as the man was, I had no real fear of him, and I think that was unnerving to the gang-leader. Even his goons seemed to have no shortage of terror around the man.

"Alright you lazy &$#'s lets do this." Barret barked out to his comrades as I slinked away into the darkness, working my way carefully around the wreckage surrounding the mobster's home. As I turned about, watching Barret move his men into place, I caught sight of two women approaching the house alone, without any kind of escort. That was certainly odd in this neighborhood, even the most naive of prostitutes knew better than to walk around this particular home without protection. The first was ravishingly beautiful, a long, silky, red dress covering her modestly and yet accentuating her gorgeous figure perfectly. There was something distinctly off about the second woman though; she didn't walk quite right, as if unused to her own clothing, and even her long blonde hair just didn't appear natural. The purple silk dress she wore didn't seem to work well for her either, accentuating all the wrong features. Well, I thought, while the Don was very discriminating in his tastes, his men weren't. I waved Barret off, signalling him to wait until the women were safely inside, but I was pretty sure he intended to anyway. Despite all of the evidence to the contrary, it was obvious to me that the man was lot more soft and caring than he acted.

As the door clanged shut, I slipped again into the darkness, disappearing into the wreckage as I had been trained to do all those years ago. Once a Turk, always a Turk, they had told me back in training. Slinking about the shadows was the most fundamental art instilled in the Turk ranks, and I had certainly never forgotten it. If anything I had perfected the art, even as I rotted in that dingy, foul-smelling office and worked on those petty cases and pithy problems. It was a thing they never taught you in the training classes, how to truly meld in with the populace, how to appear as one of them and not what you truly were. Most of the Turks had been far too stuck-up to truly understand that the best hiding place was often in plain sight. Though the thought brought me a touch of pride, it also resurrected those painful memories that always simmered just beneath the surface. Always her face would come to me in moments like this, her smiling features glistening in my memory. Lucrecia... I shook my head as if to escape the unbidden memory, concentrating on the task at hand.

As I passed well-lit areas near the home, I walked as if I were simply another passerby, satisfied by the pleasures of the area, stumbling about as if slightly drunk. In the shadows I moved soundlessly, without disturbing even the most minute piece of garbage in this festering cesspit. All about me, the Don's men continued their rounds, their eyes glazed over from the long hours spent guarding the mobster. Soon after, the sounds of combat erupted from the front of the mansion, Barret and his goons opening up with everything they had. Gunfire and explosions echoed everywhere as the guards nearby ran to the front of the house, weapons held out before them. With the guards thus occupied I had no trouble reaching the back door, which Tifa had successfully left unlocked.

Once inside I began wandering the empty halls as the battle continued to rage outside. Finally I found what had to be the Don's room; it had a set of double doors with some ridiculously ostentatious design on them and looked exactly like what it was... an entrance to a mobster's "play" room. I kicked the doors in viciously, my revolver held out before me as I rushed into the room, eyes searching for signs of danger. What I saw nearly reduced me to laughter. Tifa had the powerful mob boss on his knees, her hands wrapped around his throat, choking him without mercy.

"Hey I need him alive... for the moment." I began, placing the revolver to the mob boss's temple. Tifa pulled her hands away with some obvious reluctance, glaring at the Don with intense hatred.

"What a slimy little man. I'm wondering if I should just cut it off, hmm?" Tifa smiled sadistically. The Don writhed with terror, his ostentatious, bright red clothing reeking of sweat.

"You.. you... I will have you dealt with!" He began, but as I clicked the cylinder on the revolver, he quivered and his mouth shut.

"Yes, that's right old boy. You shouldn't be making threats." My voice was monotone, lacking any kind of emotion, as I continued. "Now, I'm in need of certain information, and you are going to give it to me. And if I think you are lying, I will leave you to her." For her part, Tifa smiled with relish as she gestured, her fingers moving like a pair of scissors.

"Now, you're working with Shinra, right?" I began. As the Don began to shake his head, Tifa leaned in closer, and he reluctantly nodded yes.

"What did they hire you to do?" I already knew this part of the story, but I wanted to see just how accurate his information would be, and whether or not Tifa would need to prepare him a little first.

"Uh.. uh.. don't cut it off... They wanted my men to... check around for this spiky blond guy... he's some kind of escaped prisoner." He replied nervously. The sounds of battle outside continued.

"Cloud Strife. So what did you find out?" I added, looking over at Tifa.

"Uh.. well my men had been following him awhile, Shinra couldn't keep track of him in the slums, this is MY territory. We caught him trying to get to the upper plate. He was climbing one of the support cables or something and one of my men cut it... easy job... that's all I swear."

"Did he survive?" I certainly hoped so, this guy was my only firm lead on finding Sephiroth.

"How should I know? Probably not, that's a long way to fall." The Don began squirming then suddenly stopped, a sadistic smile working it's way onto his face as he glanced over at Tifa. "But It doesn't matter anyway, you're from sector seven huh? You'll get a nice surprise soon!"

Just as I was about to question the mobster about this new information, two figures stepped into the room behind me. I swung around instinctively, my revolver pointing directly at them as they stepped over the broken remnants of the door. Certainly I was surprised to see the two women I had seen entering earlier, anyone sane would be crouching under a table somewhere as the battle raged outside. But I could see that these two were no strangers to danger. Emerald eyes stared at me with puzzlement, then flicked over to Tifa in confusion. Her companion was a definitely off, she was... then my detective instincts kicked in. I had seen all manner of strange things in my time dealing with cheating lovers and prostitution rings, and in the grand scheme of things, men dressing up as women wasn't as unusual as it should have been.

"Tifa?" A deep male voice rumbled from the feminine figure, confirming my suspicion. For her part, Tifa merely stared, her jaw dropping in surprise as the Don was all but forgotten.

"Cloud?" She began, and now it was my turn to be shocked. The soldier, or whatever he was, who had eluded Shinra and survived the Don's assassination attempt.. was a beefcake? But the thought didn't fit with the man's posture. This was a serious professional, someone to be extremely wary of, perhaps he had merely used this as a form of bizarre disguise to gain entrance into the place... possibly to extract revenge for the attempt on his life?

"Are you Cloud Strife?" I spoke simply.

"Yeah," was all the man could say.

"I'm Aerith," the woman in the red dress added sweetly. Wow, I thought, where did this cross-dressing soldier find that girl?

"I'm not... I just dressed like this to get in. We saw them taking you here and wanted to... uh..." Cloud seemed embarrassed by the whole situation, not to say that I blamed him.

"Rescue me? So you remembered our little promise?" Tifa smiled, but I could tell that she wasn't very pleased with the other woman. My earlier suspicions were thus confirmed, Tifa did have a lot more of a past with this man than she let on.

"Who are you?" Aerith asked, staring directly at me as I holstered my revolver and kicked the Don to the floor, knocking him unconscious.

"That's not really your concern." I replied. Certainly I didn't need my name thrown out there any more than it already was.

"He's Vincent Valentine, a Private Investigator." Tifa spoke as I glared back at her. "He was looking for you, Cloud."

"He looks like a Turk." Cloud said, anger seeping into his voice as he glared at me. My fingers lingered on the revolver as I tensed up. This man was definitely dangerous, I thought as I stared back at him with equal intensity.


End file.
